Midlife at Thirty?

If your life is shaken, stirred, and scrambled, probably.

I doubt I will pass away at sixty, but the question of “Is this it?” did emerge in my mind like a speech bubble when I turned thirty. By age thirty, I had gotten my first real job, bought my first house, and married my first husband. Driving to work one day, I wondered, “Is this it? Is this the beginning of the rest of my life?” I was already bored.

In the picture above, I was at a conference for fish nerds in Sitka, Alaska, in 2000. I asked the Alaskan artist Ray Troll to sign my conference t-shirt and draw a raven eating a rockfish. Rockfish were the species I studied. The raven symbolizes my connection to the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, the place where my career as a fish biologist, my home, and my married life began. I was a fish nerd at a fish conference, with a fish artist drawing on my chest. I was living my best life.

I recall that conference vividly. At age twenty-nine, I was giving my first scientific presentation as a professional fish biologist. My graduate advisor, the one who told me I didn’t have what it took to be a scientist, was in the room. I saw him nod with pride as I finished my 15-minute talk. He would take back what he said a year later. The only bummer was that my husband was there. The spouse tag-along was a frugal way to have an Alaska vacation. The trouble is, I wasn’t there on vacation; I was there as a part of my job, and a part of my work was to network. His frumpiness prevented me from playing with my graduate school and work friends. I missed out on bowling night in Sitka. Instead, we did something boring like hanging out at the Bed and Breakfast outside of town.

The following day, several people asked where I was. Why hadn’t I gone out? I felt stupid, like I had missed out, like my life was over, and like maybe marriage at twenty-six was too soon.

Although the event inspired me to start paying attention to my feelings, I was still vying for an upgrade from a federal government contractor to a full-time employee. My nose was still on the grindstone, so I didn’t have time to think about my feelings. I was focused on becoming a marine biologist. It was a journey I began when I was thirteen. I was determined to leave Chicago, move to California, and attend school to earn that marine biology degree. By twenty-three, I was in graduate school in California’s beautiful Monterey Bay area. I was living my dream. The only issue was that I met a boy during my first semester. A boy who I followed to Albuquerque, NM. Who stuck around even when I didn’t want to have his baby. A boy who stuck around when I left him to take a job in Alaska. A boy who stuck around even when I strayed behind his back. Eventually, he would follow me to Seattle, WA. Since he didn’t break up with me, it meant he loved me. I guess I loved him for that.

Maintaining a relationship while pursuing a dream may not have been wise. I likely ignored the red flags I should have recognized in the relationship. More likely, I simply didn’t know how to end things.

Reaching the big three-oh gave me pause. I turned thirty a month before 2001. In January, on my way to a conference in Charleston, SC, I feared for my life as the hydraulic pump of the plane I was on began to fail. The plane landed safely back in Houston and taxied on the tarmac amidst a welcoming committee of fire trucks and ambulances when the hydraulics finally gave out. In February 2001, the 6.8 magnitude Nisqually earthquake near Seattle made the walls of my office building sway, making me run for my life. We know what happened in September 2001. Then, in November 2001, we started a 3-week trip to South America. My husband complained about my speaking Spanish to our taxi driver, saying I was purposely leaving him out of the conversation, even as I tried to translate. He became upset when we didn’t have sex every night. Then, as I gazed upon Machu Picchu for the first time, a prayer breathed out of me: Send me a lover…

When the universe sends you many messages, you gotta start listening. I started questioning my life choices. In January 2002, I took on a second job as a lecturer at a community college. Was being a marine biologist indeed what I wanted? I had an affair. Was being with someone else what I desired?

If a midlife crisis is when the world you know gets shaken, stirred, and scrambled, I had one at age thirty. I divorced, bought my own house, and kept being a marine biologist. I partied, made friends, and had fun. I had the time of my life.

Have you had your life stirred, shaken, or scrambled?

What were your midlife crisis signs?

What did you do to change your life?